THE KNAVE
Overall rating: yellow/orange
Category: slash (two male Elves in love), romance, drama, ANGST, h/c, humour.
Pairings: Orophin/Elladan, Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit - and some surprises
Warnings: mpreg, ANGST
Beta: Miss Eveiya
Author's notes: finally – the last chapter! My – did you wave pitchforks, dear readers! It was a nice cliff-hanger at the end of chapter 11, wasn't it? Hands up – who thinks Erestor did cheat on Fin? Oh – that many? Well then – read ahead and see whether you were right or not.
I also must say that I am shocked – shocked, I tell you, about the number of people who wrote to me demanding that Gil-galad gets called "Pumpkin" – you cruel lot! Does an old king deserve such treatment? (The audience goes "Yes!")
This chapter was beta-read by Ye Wonderful Magic Rat and Ye amazing Eveiya.
And now, without any further ado, let's see how this tale will end…::stage curtain opens::
CHAPTER 12
FIN'S SONG FOR ERESTOR
He waits for me at night, he waits for me in silence
He gives me all his tenderness and takes away my pain
And so far he has not run, though I swear he would have reasons
He still believes in miracles while others cry in vain
He turns to me sometimes and asks me what I am dreaming
And I realize I must have gone a million days away
And I ask him how he knew to reach out for me that moment
And he smiles because 't is understood there are no words to say
There are those who have lost every trace of hope and love and kindness
There are many who have fallen, there are some who still survive
He comes to me at night and he tells me his desires
And he gives me all the love I need to keep my faith alive
't is all about soul
't is all about faith and deep devotion
't is all about soul
because under love is a stronger emotion
He has got to be strong
Because so many things getting out of control
Should drive him away
So why does he stay?
't is all about soul
"Erestorized" version of Billy Joel's "All about Soul"
~°~
Finally, his legs decided to move again, and Fin stormed forward, tearing down the tapestry he had hidden behind in the process, and dragged Elrond violently off Erestor, but his lord would not give in so easily, spun around and grabbed Fin by the shoulders, shaking him hard, again and again and…
"Fin… beloved, what is wrong?" Erestor asked, worried, and tried to shake the distraught Elf back into awareness.
Glorfindel bolted up, covered in cold sweat, and stared at Erestor in panic.
"Erestor…" he gasped, and his mate gently pushed a sweat-soaked strand of golden hair behind Fin's ear.
"You must have had a nightmare, beloved – have you dreamt of Mandos' Halls again?" Erestor hugged Glorfindel, and gently, but firmly made him rest his head on his chest.
"No", Fin whispered, "I have not dreamt of death. I have dreamt of something worse by far."
Erestor didn't question him any further, just kept on stroking the warrior's hair till Fin's heartbeat calmed down and his eyes were glazing over in reverie again.
And Erestor wondered what could be worse for Glorfindel than death.
* * *
"So, you little rascal - we shall have a very serious father-son talk now", Glorfindel said, and lay down flat on his front to be on eye-level with his son who sat on a blanket in the nursery and chewed on a slice of apple, making a terrible mess.
"Aggagagggagagaa!" Estorel replied enthusiastically, and waved the badly mutilated piece of fruit in the air.
"Yes, that is exactly what I wanted to talk about," Glorfindel said, and tickled the soles of the Elfling's naked feet. Estorel giggled and squirmed, sputtering chewed apple all over Fin's face.
"Eww - now that is not the way I intended to start his discussion," Fin muttered, and cleaned his face with a corner of the blanket.
"Gaaaagggooooo!" Estorel confirmed, smearing apple in his hair, which by now reached down to his chin and had turned from the original black with red lights into a deep auburn, which was an interesting contrast to his dark blue eyes.
Fin tried to pick up the discussion again.
"So that is your fëa in there, Luinil, if I understood His Holy Deadliness correctly," he said, staring at his son, trying to find any trace of the child he had lost in such a tragic way many ages ago.
"Gah!" Estorel said, and nodded, wiping sticky fingers on his soft green tunic.
Glorfindel took one of his son's tiny feet in his large hands, and gently stroked it, as if it was made out of glass, a precious, fragile gem.
"I do not know if you can really hear or understand me, my son, but I ask you to forgive me my foolishness. I should have never allowed you to ride with me into battle, but I was so proud, and you were so eager - ai, it is all my fault, my sweet little prince."
The child looked at him, smiling, and Fin pressed a kiss on the little one's brow.
"I have no words to tell you how very much I loved you, and still love you, my son. No moment has passed without me thinking of you, remembering what a wonderful son you were. I often woke up, believing I heard your laughter, only to find your room empty and your mother in despair. You must not think that I did not love her, son, but it is your Sia who is the true companion of my soul, and you have chosen wisely in choosing him.
“I do not know what I did to deserve the grace of seeing you return into my arms, but I promise you that I will make everything up to you, little one – I will be a good father this time. Though truth be told - you have very bad judgement, returning to a good-for-nothing rogue like me."
Fin buried his face in his hands, and cried - he couldn't even tell if these were tears of pain over losing his son, or tears of joy for seeing him returned - he just felt a shadow lifted from his heart and his mind, and when a tiny hand clumsily stroked his hair, a wonderful sense of peace came over him.
Not only his son had returned - Fin had come home, too.
* * *
'Elves never cease to amaze me,' Gandalf thought, smoking his pipe, occasionally blowing smoke rings in the air, and he pointedly ignored Galadriel, who wrinkled her nose and demonstratively coughed every time one of the grey circles wafted her way. He finally blew smoke in the form of a swan for her, and she gave him a smile, though she let a loud cough follow - she couldn’t lose face, after all.
The old wizard watched the busy life of the small camp the Lórien Elves had set up. He had met with them halfway between Lothlórien and Rivendell and had been invited warmly to complete the journey with them, and he had agreed with delight, for Galadriel was always good company. They had discussed the upcoming bonding-ceremony between Erestor and Glorfindel and, in a quiet moment, the miracle of the three returned Elves. He was careful not to speak too loudly - after all, this was nothing which should be heralded all over Arda yet, the trees had ears and mouths at times, and he first wanted to talk to Gil-galad himself before he made up his mind about this whole affair. This aside, he had some rather unpleasant news for the Lord of Imladris - news with consequences for all of Middle Earth, but right now, he simply enjoyed being surrounded by laughter and merriment.
Some Elves had just finished a song about young love unrequited, and everybody was wiping away tears.
"No more tears, my friends," Rúmil called out, and jumped up, "'t is a time for laughter and joy!"
He took a flask from his belt, which contained the strongest Shire Brandy available, and offered it with a big smile to Galadriel, who first sniffed suspiciously at the bottle neck, then took an experimental sip and immediately started to cough and retch - by the Valar, what a dastardly beverage!
Rúmil laughed, then he stepped into the middle of the small circle, and began to sing, swaying and tripping over his own feet, pretending to be drunk and juggling the flask:
"Of all the birds that ever I see,
the Owl is the fairest in her degree,
For all the day long she sits in a tree,
and when the night comes, away flies she,
Te whit, te who, to whom drinks now?
Sir knave to thou,
This song is well sung, I make you a vow,
and he is a knave that drinketh now.
Nose, nose, no-o-o-nose,
and who gave thee that jolly red nose?
Cinamon, Ginger, Nutmeg, and cloves,
and that gave thee thy jolly red nose."
Everybody laughed, cheered and clapped their hands, and even the Lady of the Golden Wood joined in, giggling like a young Elf maiden, and by the Valar, this was a sight Gandalf enjoyed, for when had anybody seen the stern lady behave like this?
On and on it went, tale and song, and when finally everybody retired to their bedrolls, it was already deep into the night. Gandalf retreated to the comfort of his little cart, pulling his hat well down over his face, and soon his snoring was the only sound to be heard, some owl cries aside.
Some distance from the main camp, Galadriel sat in the grass, legs stretched out, leaning on a huge oak tree. Rúmil lay on his back, his head resting in her lap, her left hand on his chest, playing with the fastening of his cloak, and he explained to her the names of all the stars above - most of them he made up as he went along, for he knew of astronomy about as much as a cow knew of dancing, but Galadriel, who knew every star by its name and most of them personally, just smiled.
"And this is a very special star, my lady - it is called 'Most beautiful Lady of the Silver Hair', and without a doubt, it is the brightest star of them all. And see the small one who stands close by her? That one is called 'Pining Galadhrim' - not too bright, but nice to look at."
Galadriel laughed silently.
"I would not say that this star is not too bright - he is bright enough to know to keep a distance from the big shiny one so that he may not burn himself on her flame."
Rúmil looked up to her. The moonlight reflected on her hair which was of almost the same colour as the silver beams, and he felt he had never seen his lady more beautiful.
"Ah, my lady - it is in the nature of small stars to pine for bright stars who do not want them in return."
She sighed.
"Rúmil, very often the path we take is not the one we have chosen, but the one that is chosen for us. Were I to follow my heart, the little star would not have to burn, but could warm himself by the fire. But I may not follow my heart - you know as well as I do that no star is alone up there in the sky - they all rely on each other, and if one star falls, all others might follow, leaving the night dark and cold for us."
Rúmil snuggled up closer to her, and closed his eyes when he felt her fingers gently caress his face.
"My lady - I have sworn loyalty to both you and the Lord Celeborn, and to this oath I will adhere till the end of times or my dying day. But he has not treated you the way you deserve, my lady. Even an Elven lord can err in his ways."
There was neither anger nor bitterness in his voice, only concern, and she sighed.
"Neither of us has treated the other the way we deserved, so the blame should not be put on one party alone, dearest friend."
The Galadhrim opened his eyes and propped himself up on his arm, looking straight into her eyes now.
"My lady - we all know, better than we wish to, of his visits to houses, huts and Telain whenever he felt the fire rise. Do not think us blind - we see every being, Elf or Orc or Dwarf, who enters the Golden Wood. Our eyes are sharp and our ears are keen - nothing happens in the Golden Wood without us knowing it. Your people have compassionate hearts, my lady - we do not enjoy hearing you weep at night."
Galadriel quickly looked away.
"To hear you of all the Elves say such a thing," she murmured, and Rúmil cupped her chin, moving her head gently to face him again, and he frowned.
"Why does this come as such a surprise, my lady? Did you think me to be without a heart?"
Galadriel shook her head. She couldn't possibly tell him why it moved her so to hear these words from him. He reminded her so much of Celeborn as he had been so many ages ago - caring, fun, passionate, loving, and unpredictable. Every day she spent with Rúmil she discovered more similarities between the two, and she chided herself for having been blind for so long.
"I think your heart is a most precious thing, Rúmil - so you should be very careful whom you gift with it."
He leant closer, so close that she could feel his breath on her face.
"I cannot give my heart to anybody, my lady," he whispered, "for I do not own it anymore."
Before she could reply to this, his lips were on hers again, and though she knew that this was a very wrong and very foolish thing to do, she returned his kiss with equal passion. It felt so good to be wanted, admired - loved? To run her hands through his long hair, to let them wander over his back, feeling the warmth of his body and the play of the muscles. She felt her resistance melt like an icicle exposed to the winter sun, and so she was grateful when he broke off to catch his breath. He looked at her, took in the flushed features, the sparkling eyes, and he read well what she did not speak out loud. He playfully kissed her nose, then he got up, stroked her face lovingly with the back of his hand and covered her with the light blanket, tucking it in around her lithe form.
"Sleep, my lady. I will be out, standing guard, so that no bad dreams may disturb you this night."
He winked at her, then he turned around, and her eyes followed him until he disappeared between the trees, becoming one with the darkness - an invisible forest spirit.
* * *
There were moments when Elrond found it a hard task to follow Glorfindel's train of thought. Moments like this one, for example. One minute, they both sat peacefully over a game of chess, the next he found himself involved in a most obscure discussion.
"Check and mate – you have lost, Glorfindel", Elrond grinned, and the warrior sighed.
"Indeed – you have out-manoeuvred me again, Elrond."
He leant back in his seat, and eyed the Lord of Imladris carefully. Elrond, despite his obvious mortal ancestry, was very fair of face, there was a hidden humour in his eyes, and he was kind, wise and the best of friends. He moved gracefully, had a melodious voice, and if the rumours Glorfindel had picked up through the centuries and Gil-galad's amusing little tales could be believed, there were a good number of other reasons why the High King had been so smitten with the Peredhil – reasons Glorfindel preferred not to know in full detail.
Elrond spent more time with Erestor than he did – which was a natural thing, as Erestor was his chief advisor, and there were treaties to be prepared, speeches to be written, late hours to be worked… not that Glorfindel doubted Erestor's faithfulness at all, but what about Elrond? Surely he must have noticed what dark treasure was sitting to his left in the council? Had he really been blind all these years? Certainly not!
Glorfindel's eyes narrowed.
"Do you like Erestor?" he asked suddenly, and Elrond, who naturally had no idea what Glorfindel had been brooding over all the while, looked up in surprise.
"Now what kind of question is that, Glorfindel – of course I like Erestor. Why should I not like him?" he asked, puzzled.
"Yes, why should you not – he is very fair of face, is he not?"
Elrond cocked an eyebrow.
"Glorfindel – what is this about? Do you have a reason for these rather odd questions or …"
"Oh, no, nothing. Nothing. Really. I just wondered. So – you do not think he is fair of face, then?"
"Of course he is fair of face. As if you did not know that by now! But again: why do you ask these questions?"
Alas, Fin had no intention of revealing the reasons for his curiosity, and replied with another question.
"So you think he is fair of face. Have you ever considered bedding him?"
"Bedding him? Erestor? Fin – how many glasses of Miruvor did you have before you came here?" Elrond asked, indignant.
"None. And you have not answered my question yet – have you ever considered bedding him? Have you tried? Is there something I should know before we get bonded tomorrow?"
Glorfindel was by now leaning over the small table, ignorant of the chess figures he had swept off with his sleeve.
"I really hope you are not implying here what I think you are implying, Lord Glorfindel," Elrond answered, leaning forward, too, and there were icicles forming in the air between the two Elves.
"It is for the entire world clear to see that Erestor loves you, and you alone. So this interrogation here is not only pointless, but also highly insulting, both to me and to your intended, and I would suggest you spare Erestor similar treatment, unless you wish to hurt his feelings."
Glorfindel dropped back in his seat, and sighed.
"I am sorry, my lord - please forgive me. I just had a most disturbing dream last night, which refused to leave my memory once I awoke, and..."
Elrond looked at him again, this time with the eyes of a healer.
"Glorfindel - we have been friends for many millennia. I can see that something worries you deeply. Would you not maybe share with me the dream you had? So often what we experience in the land of dreams can point us to something which is bothering us in real life. Maybe I can help?"
Glorfindel wrung his hands.
"Ai, what you say is true, Elrond - fine, I shall tell you. But do not think badly of me."
"I will not. Go ahead."
Elrond leant back, filled his glass with wine again and concentrated on the warrior.
Fin emptied his glass in one go, then he said: "I have dreamt Erestor was cheating on me. With you."
Elrond cocked an eyebrow, but didn't comment, and Fin continued.
"See - he really wants to have another child. And while I do not object to the idea of having a larger family in principle, I am too worried about him to give in to his wish. I... almost lost him the last time, and I do not want to put him through all this again. He is not a full Plains Elf - we know nothing about how this might affect him, and... oh, I do not know. He could do so much better than me."
Elrond, who had listened carefully, leant forward.
"So, if I understood you correctly, you do not think yourself good enough for Erestor, you worry that he might leave you for somebody who is, at least in your own estimation, 'better' than you, and you deny him another child because you fear you might lose him - did I understand you right?"
Fin nodded, and looked down at his boots.
Elrond got up, walked towards the window, and looked down into the courtyard where Gil-galad was talking to Amaris, gesturing wildly, while the Mirkwood Elf polished his finger nails and yawned.
"Glorfindel, dear friend - I would be a liar to deny that I have, at times, been attracted to Erestor. If you work in such proximity for so long a time, it happens. But," he said, turning around and looking sternly at the warrior, "there has not been a single moment where I had the feeling that Erestor was interested in me. Not once in all these millennia. I have been lonely for a very long time - do not hold it against me that I have longed for comfort from time to time."
Glorfindel stared at Elrond, and the Elf lord couldn't help but smile at the flabbergasted expression on his friend's face.
"I know you so well, Glorfindel. There is a sweet, gentle, generous soul hidden behind your loud and rough behaviour; the bigger the Balrog grows in your stories, the smaller your self-esteem is. Do not think me blind, my friend. And do not think Erestor to be blind, either. He has seen through you, he has chosen you willingly and with all his heart, with his soul, and if you wish to ask me if you should be bonded tomorrow, or if you were not 'worthy' of him, there is only one thing I can say: you two were made for each other."
Glorfindel looked at his lord, and managed a small smile.
"Do you really think so, Elrond? Is this your honest opinion?"
Elrond nodded, rather energetically.
"Indeed - this is my honest opinion. Neither of you could be happy with another, for you would, without a doubt, drive any other Elf mad with your antics. And now I ask you kindly to go and annoy somebody else, as I have some preparations for your bonding ceremony tomorrow to complete."
Glorfindel grinned and got up.
"Far be it from me to keep you from this important task! And do not forget that I wish all trees to be decorated with bright pink bows!"
Elrond groaned, and winced when the door slammed closed behind his seneschal, who never seemed to be able to close a door normally or quietly.
Then he sat down and wrote a note to Melpomaen to make sure all the trees would be decorated with green and dark red bows, as Erestor had wished.
Maybe Glorfindel was his oldest friend - but Erestor definitely batted his lashes more convincingly.
* * *
"I really do not like this, Elladan," Orophin grumbled, and looked at his reflection in the mirror disapprovingly.
"But I do – you look wonderful," the younger Elf replied, admiring his husband, who looked doubtfully down at his new robes. They were of a simple cut, the material being mossy green velvet with fine silver trimmings, but the Galadhrim looked very regal in them, like a noble Elf or even a lord. Elladan had never seen Orophin wearing robes before, which was no surprise, as the Lórien Elf deeply disliked the formal garb. If it had been up to him, he would have attended Master Erestor's and Lord Glorfindel's bonding-ceremony wearing his Galadhrim uniform, but this was out of question.
"It is also Estorel's name-giving ceremony, and as you are his guardian, you have an important part of it. Glorfindel would cut you into little pieces and feed you to the Wargs if you looked anything less than perfect tomorrow!"
Orophin laughed.
"So you think you I will not embarrass you tomorrow when I stand by your side?" Orophin asked, tugging on his sleeve and shifting uncomfortably.
"I will be the proudest of Elves tomorrow, beloved, and though I would not dare to say this out loud in Glorfindel's presence, I will be the one with the most handsome husband as well!"
He pressed a quick kiss on Orophin's cheek, then he went over to his chest and rummaged through the top-drawer.
"Something is missing…", he murmured, "… ah, there it is! Come, sit with me."
He patted the bed cover, and Orophin sat down obediently. Elladan walked around the bed, then he crawled over the cover, knelt down behind his husband and started to undo the warrior braids.
"What are you doing, Elladan? You know that I do not like to wear my hair open," Orophin protested.
"Shhh, quiet now. Let me try something, you can always complain once I have finished."
Orophin sighed, and gave in to Elladan's brushing, combing and arranging his long, silver blond hair. After a long while, Elladan gently slapped his back, and declared: "So, I am finished. And dare I say this looks stunning on you!"
The Galadhrim gave him a doubtful look, then he got up and stood in front of the mirror.
By the Valar – was this really him?
Elladan had woven a Mithril chain into his hair – the precious metal shone through the silver tresses like a circlet, and if Orophin had looked good before, he now definitely qualified as stunning. Gone was the archer from the Golden Woods – there was a noble Elf reflected in the mirror, and Orophin got scared.
"Elladan – that is … wonderful! But – it is not me."
Elladan, who had stepped up behind him, put his arms around Orophin's waist, and drew him into a tight embrace.
"Yes, this is you. It is who and what you are – beautiful. I only made your appearance to match your heart, beloved, and whether you are dressed in regal robes or in torn breeches, I love you just the same. But of course," he added, grinning mischievously and kissing Orophin's neck, "I shall find the greatest pleasure in showing you off, and smile smugly at everybody who will lust after you, for I know it is all in vain."
"In vain? Why – do you not think me fair enough to wake lust anymore?" Orophin protested, feigning insult.
Elladan giggled, and his fingers made short work with the fastenings of Orophin's robe, letting the delicate fabric slide to the floor.
"I certainly would not say this. I find you – very inspiring, actually. And this mirror is a wonderful thing, come to think of it - I can appreciate your beauty from all sides."
Orophin watched with increasing fascination how Elladan's hand wandered over his chest and stomach in the mirror. That this felt amazingly good he already knew – but it also looked rather interesting.
"Inspiring – yes, I agree", he said, gasping as he felt Elladan's hands moving further down his body, seeing the movement at the same time in the mirror.
"Ai – have I just discovered another way to tease you, my love?" Elladan smiled in Orophin's neck, brushing a light kiss on the sensitive skin behind the ear, and his husband nodded.
"Possibly."
"Well then," Elladan said, shedding his own clothes, "I shall see that we have the ceiling above our bed fitted with one large mirror."
Orophin spun around, staring at Elladan, who had a very wicked grin on his face.
"Elladan! This is… decadent! Why would you want to do this?"
"Because," the wicked Elf replied, drawing Orophin closer to him, "you are all around perfect, and I enjoy your rear view as much as I cherish your front."
Orophin laughed, and he even blushed, which Elladan found enchanting beyond words.
"You know, my love," Orophin snickered, while Elladan continued to place small kisses on his skin and occasionally nibble it, "it might be a nice bonding-ceremony-present for Erestor and Glorfindel to have their bedchamber fitted with a mirror, too."
"I am afraid this is a bad idea, beloved," Elladan said, looking up briefly and shaking his head.
"You think so? Why?"
"Because Glorfindel," Elladan said, "has already ordered one."
"Glorfindel, you said, was your tutor?" Orophin asked, taking Elladan's hand and steering him towards the bed.
"Yes, indeed," his husband replied.
"Remind me to thank him."
* * *
"Come in!" Gil barked when he heard the soft rap on his door, and he registered with some surprise that his unexpected guest was Erestor. He wore his usual black velvet robe, the only bit of colour was the dark-green silk lining of the sleeves. His hair was unbraided, a large carrion crow sat on his shoulder; and his only piece of jewellery was the large Mithril ring Glorfindel had given him as a sign of their upcoming bonding. The ring looked huge on the long, narrow hand, and all in all, Gil-galad thought, his appearance was rather exotic, and would have turned more than one head in Lindon.
"Master Erestor – come in. What brings you to my chambers? Have I broken rules again? Walked with dirty boots across the Great Hall? Insulted one of Elrond's advisors?"
Erestor smiled, and shook his head.
"I am most pleased to see you, too, my lord. I seem to have quite a reputation – do I really only seek you out when I have complaints? I hope not."
"Oh, come on," Gil muttered, "I know you do not approve of my presence. If it was up to you, Mandos would find a red carpet in the courtyard and you would even hold his horse for him while he dragged me away."
Now Erestor was really laughing – Gil-galad couldn't remember ever having seen this, and he was oddly taken by the sound.
"My dear lord – you mistake my concern for Lord Elrond's well-being with dislike for your person. I only wish to see my lord happy. I have no dislike for you."
Erestor stroked the crow on his shoulder, who was pecking after his braid, then he looked back at Gil-galad.
"This, of course, does not mean that I would not spread your guts all over the courtyard to dry and for my crows to feast on if you should hurt Lord Elrond in any way."
Gil-galad was lost for words for once, so Erestor used the break to deliver the message he had come with originally.
"I am here to inform you that Lord Amaris has saddled his horse and will leave Imladris for Mirkwood within the next minutes, so I suggest you hurry up if you wish to say goodbye."
He had actually wanted to say more, but Gil-galad had run out of the door so quickly that Erestor's last words were spoken to an empty room.
* * *
"I consider it an insult that you try to sneak out of Rivendell without telling me, and I demand to know when you will return!" Gil-galad shouted across the courtyard, and marched towards Amaris, who was just in the process of fixing his saddle bag. Hearing his king barking like an angry Warg, he sighed and turned around.
"Your consideration is noted, Sire, but will not change anything about my decision. As for my return, I am most sorry to have to inform you that it will not happen."
Gil-galad had reached his advisor now, and towered in front of him.
"What. What. What. Nonsense. Of course you will return. Mirkwood is as dull as Galadriel's crocheting circle."
"This may very well be, Sire, but still I have no intention of returning. I am sure you will find somebody else to insult; you could try your luck with Master Erestor, who is at least as skilled in the art of sarcasm as I am."
"I do not wish to be insulted by Master Erestor. You return within a month, that is an order."
Amaris shook his head, and a smile played around his lips, though Gil-galad couldn't help but notice that it was a rather bitter one.
"I think you have not understood, Sire: I leave your service. There is nothing anymore you can order me to do. I will return to Mirkwood, see how my family fares, and if all else fails, I can still sail West. This is my wish and will."
Gil-galad looked down at the elegant, slender Woodland Elf who was in every respect so different from himself. Annoying he was, true, obnoxious at times, vain and proud and arrogant, but he had also been a loyal and trusted friend for many millennia, and the thought that he would just ride out of this courtyard and Gil-galad's life was – frightening.
"Amaris", he said, his voice much softer, "have I done anything to drive you away? Have I hurt you? Did I do something wrong? If so, pray tell, and I shall make amends if possible. We have been friends for so many years, I will not have this end in such a way."
Amaris gave Gil-galad a long, thoughtful look. For the first time, the king noticed that there were tiny golden speckles in the blue of his eyes, a colour which reflected in his hair, and he wondered why he had never noticed before.
"You have done nothing wrong, Sire, apart from the things you always mess up, but this I am used to. No, it is an entirely personal thing. And I want to break the news of your return to my brother myself, before he turns up in front of Rivendell's gates with an army and ruins Lord Glorfindel's bonding ceremony by spilling your guts all over the courtyard."
Gil-galad wanted to say something about the general obsession with his guts, but Amaris cut him off.
"It has been an honour to serve under you, my king, but now I have to leave. I would think that giving you three ages of my life is enough. I beg you, in the name of our friendship: let me go."
Gil-galad knew that there could only be one answer to this request: to let Amaris go and release him from his service, thank him for his friendship and loyalty, and to wish him well.
He straightened up, managing the miracle of changing from scruffy looking warrior to regal king within the fraction of a moment, and as usual, Amaris held his breath, his heart beating at twice its normal speed, and for a very short moment, his eyes mirrored his heart. To be held just once in these arms, or to have the chance to kiss those lips - but these were favours reserved for the Lord of Rivendell, and he would rather spend the next millennia among spiders and Orcs than stand by and watch the two lovers.
Gil-galad counted the golden speckles – 8 in the left eye and 13 in the right, which was odd. He counted again - yes, 8 and 13. 21, all in all. Amazing - how could this have escaped him for so long?
"I thank you for everything you have done, for our people as well as for me, I thank you for your friendship and loyalty, and I wish you well, Amaris of Mirkwood. But I will not release you from my service."
"I beg your pardon?" Amaris asked, cocking his head, thinking he had misheard.
"Have you by any chance forgotten to clean your ears? I said: I will not release you from my service. As in: not. As in: never. As in: stay in Mirkwood as long as you wish, but one day, I wish you to return. Take your time. We are immortal, after all. And we still have not finished that game of chess we started last week."
There it was again, the thoughtful look on his advisor's face - was there more to Amaris' departure than the wish to see home and family again? But surely, it could not be that anybody had hurt the Mirkwood Elf - Gil-galad would have noticed and cut the culprit into little pieces. Maybe it was just another fancy, like hugging trees and weaving flower-chains.
"As you wish, Sire." Amaris finally answered, mounting his horse and riding out of the courtyard without looking back. The king should not see his tears, nobody should, they were his, and his alone, and one day, he was sure, there would be none left, and he could forget and find somebody else to give his heart to, somebody who would, for a change, love him in return.
Gil-galad stared after Amaris, and he was very surprised when he realized that the Mirkwood Elf took a piece of his heart with him when he left.
"21 golden speckles - how come I never noticed?" he murmured.
* * *
Dinner was an unpleasant matter this evening – first because Gil-galad was nowhere in sight and probably had gotten himself into trouble again, and as everything was already prepared for the celebrations on the next day, the kitchen offered only a rather simple meal. Unfortunately and without Elrond's knowledge, Elrohir and Melpomaen had managed to sneak into the kitchen while the chef had been looking after the preparations in the courtyard, so Elrond found himself sitting in front of a bowl of pumpkin soup tonight.
He was not too fond of pumpkin at the best of times, and the fact that some impertinent Elf, possibly Melpomaen, giggled every time the word "pumpkin" was mentioned, did not improve his mood. After a heroic attempt to eat the soup he finally gave up, pushed the half-emptied bowl aside, and looked hopefully at the plate which was placed in front of him – only to shy back at the sight of mashed pumpkin with cheese.
"What in Elbereth's name is this?" he boomed.
"Pumpkin," Elrohir piped up, and Melpomaen couldn't hold back any more and burst out in giggles.
"Do you, young Master Melpomaen, have anything valuable to contribute to this conversation, or are you merely being silly without a reason?" Elrond asked, overly friendly, and the young advisor tried his best to get his face under control again, which worked until dessert was served.
It turned out to be glazed pumpkin with vanilla cream, and now there was no holding back for Melpomaen and Elrohir, who literally rolled on the floor with laughter.
"This takes it too far! Elrohir! Melpomaen! I demand that you stop this nonsense immediately, and I also expect to hear who is responsible for this – menu!" Elrond shouted, hitting his fist on the table.
Right this moment, Gil-galad stormed into the hall, breathing heavily.
"I am most sorry," he gasped, "I was out, riding, and forgot the time."
Seeing Elrond all worked up and angry, he looked with concern at the Lord of Rivendell, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You look angry - is anything amiss, pumpkin?"
This was too much - all but Erestor and Orophin were howling with laughter, and even in Erestor's eyes one could see amusement, and Orophin's sudden bout of coughing might well have been a clever attempt to disguise a smile.
"Fine. Very well. I am most pleased that I could contribute to everybody's entertainment."
Elrond got up, not gracing anyone present with a single look, and slowly, the laughter ebbed away, and when finally silence had returned, Elrond looked at Gil-galad, who had no idea what the commotion was all about.
"If you would have the kindness to join me, dear friend - there are some things I wish to discuss with you. In private." he said, his voice as frosty and reserved as it could be, and Gil-galad, caught unaware by all this, just stared at Elrond, who crossed the hall and headed for the stairs to his study. When he stood on the first step, he turned around, and his voice echoed from all walls and was heard even in the stables:
"I wish to discuss this now. Are you coming - PUMPKIN?"
And as much as Gil-galad wished there was a Balrog or at least a Cave Troll attacking this very moment to get him out of the fix, there was no way to avoid facing Elrond's wrath.
Fighting a Balrog would have been more fun.
* * *
At first Orophin thought he was attacked by a wild beast, but then he realized, to his great delight, that it was Rúmil. The delegation from Lórien had just arrived, and Rúmil hadn't wasted any time on protocol or welcome ceremonies, only asked Elladan where Orophin was, and so he found him, sitting on a bench in front of a memorial - one Rúmil knew all too well.
The brothers where laughing and crying at the same time, hugging and kissing each other, and Rúmil asked a million questions, of which Orophin couldn't answer even one, but it did not matter: Rúmil could see and feel that his brother had indeed returned, unharmed, and the "why's" and "how's" were only of very small interest to him.
Finally, the two sat on the soft ground, the late afternoon sun covering the small clearing in a soft light.
"Why do you sit here and brood, Orophin? Why not return to your family and friends? It is a little morbid to sit here and look at your own memorial, it seems."
Orophin smiled, and Rúmil noticed with amazement how young his face looked this moment.
"I am not brooding, penneth. But these have been stressful and busy days, and I need some time to sort my thoughts. I will take some time to fully appreciate this gift, and the risk both King Gil-galad and Lord Celeborn have taken."
Rúmil, who had been playing with some dry leaves, looked up.
"I knew that the High King was involved - but what part did the Lord Celeborn play?"
Orophin told Rúmil how their bold lord had played with Lord Námo himself for their souls, how he had risked his own life and won theirs in the process. Rúmil listened without interrupting his brother's speech, only gasping once in a while or shaking his head in disbelief.
"This is the most amazing tale I have ever heard, Orophin. So we owe him your life then - how can we ever repay him for what he has done for you?"
He hugged Orophin again, pressing a kiss on his temple.
"When I was an Elfling, I often wished you would go away when you chided me for something I had done wrong. And when you were gone, after this horrible battle, I would have given anything to get you back. Do not play such a trick on us again, Orophin. You broke all our hearts."
Orophin leant in, and their foreheads touched.
"I shall not go anywhere, brother. I will look after Master Erestor's and Lord Glorfindel's heir, help to protect Rivendell and be a loyal servant to my lords." He took a deep breath, then he added: "And a good husband to Elladan."
"Husband?" Rúmil said, staring at his brother in alarm.
"What do you mean by 'husband'? Are you ... are you planning to get married?"
Orophin drew circles in the soft ground, and sighed.
"We do not plan to get married. We already got married - no, more than that: we got bonded."
"Bonded?" Rúmil squeaked, and he sounded suspiciously like one of Farmer Maggot's piglets.
"You got bonded to the heir of Rivendell? Ai Elbereth - what did Lord Elrond say to this? Did he attack you with a sword or with a battle axe?"
Orophin shook his head.
"Lord Elrond does not know about it yet - nobody does. You are the first I have told."
Rúmil flopped down on the ground, covering his face with his hands and shook his head violently.
"Aiya, Orophin! Of all things - what in Elbereth's name has gotten into you?" he groaned.
"Elladan," Orophin answered dryly, and Rúmil, who had propped himself up on his elbows now, glaring at his brother, replied: "Now this I have figured out myself - aiya, Orophin! Elven lords do not marry their lovers - they marry nice noble maidens and have half a dozen Elflings! How do you intend to give Elladan an heir? Do you hope Elbereth will leave an Elfling for you under a mallorn tree?"
Orophin rolled his eyes.
"According to Lindir, this is the normal way to get Elflings," he said, and Rúmil groaned again.
"An angry Balrog will be nothing compared to Lord Elrond when he finds out - you better tell him soon, and from a safe distance, and as I do not wish to lose you again: make sure you wear full armour. I think Haldir has his old Helm's Deep tin box still lying around somewhere."
"Well, that will not be of much use to me, Rúmil - it is sliced open on the back."
"I wish I had brothers who were poets and librarians!"
Orophin had to smile.
"I am aware that Lord Elrond will not dance on the table with delight - but he is a wise and kind father, I hope that he will take my love for Elladan into account."
Rúmil watched him carefully, then he took his hand.
"Do you truly love him, Orophin? I know that he loves you - we were afraid he would fade when you... left us."
Orophin nodded.
"Oh yes - I love him. He is my other half, I could not live without him anymore. He is kind and good, a little silly at times, and has his head in the clouds, but I could not find a worthier mate. We did not take this step on a whim, Rúmil, we are both aware of the consequences."
The two brothers sat for a while in silence, and stared at the monument. It was strange to see his own name on a memorial, and a cold shiver ran down Orophin's spine. He imagined what it must have been like for his brothers, and for Elladan, to collect the wood for his funeral pyre.
"I am sorry that we took this step without telling you", Orophin said, looking at his brother apologetically, "we thought that Námo would take me back to the Halls of Waiting, and..."
He broke off, and Rúmil smiled.
"Do not worry about this, brother. Yes, I would have very much liked to be present at that important moment of your life, but you can still have a proper ceremony some other time. What did Haldir say to all this?"
"He does not know yet."
Rúmil got up, and brushed leaves and soil off his breeches, then he offered Orophin his hand and helped him to get back on his feet.
"Then we should go and tell him now, Orophin."
So the two brothers made their way to Haldir's and Rabbit's cave; Námo, who had sat on Orophin's memorial all through their conversation, sighed, and turned to a white Elf who lay stretched out in front of it, lazily chewing on a blade of grass.
"You must admit, my dear Irmo, that this place is most entertaining. And our children - do they not have a refreshing enthusiasm for life?
"Allow me to correct you - these two are my children. I give life, you take it. A small, but significant difference, at least from their point of view. However, I do not really understand your sudden interest in the doings of the Elves, dear friend."
"I find them inspiring. They are so very much - alive."
"Now this should annoy you more than inspire you, Námo!"
The Doomsman of the Valar shrugged.
"I suppose I am a true romantic at heart. I always delight in seeing hopeless love win in the end."
"Then there is still hope for the fair Vairë? She has been pining for you since beginning of time, after all. Such commitment deserves a reward."
Námo snorted.
"Oh please - let us not get into this discussion again. Fair she is, there can be no doubt, and kind of heart, but you know that I cannot feel love - would you really want her to spend eternity with a mate who does not return her feelings?"
Irmo cocked a delicately formed, silver blond eyebrow.
"It is not as if she has a great variety of suitors, Námo. There are only three of us left who are unattached - of which one is a lunatic, one is you, and one -"
"Shhhht! Do not mention his name!" Námo hissed. "Do not even think of him in my presence! The mere thought of his existence causes me more pain than all the fires of Mordor, and this haven of peace shall not be marred by speaking his name!"
"As you wish. But ignoring his existence will not ending it, dear friend."
With that, Irmo, also known as Lórien, disappeared, and left a brooding Lord of Death behind him. After a while, Námo decided to return to the Halls of Waiting. He intended to enjoy the following day to its full extent, so he had to finish some paper work today.
Before he left, he blew a kiss in the direction of the memorial, and a rosebush began to grow, tiny green leaves showed ,rosebuds blossomed, and within seconds, the memorial of Elladan's great grief was covered with dozens of wonderfully scented red roses.
"Much better," Námo said to himself, "Elves might be great warriors and poets, but they are lousy landscape gardeners."
* * *
The sun obviously knew that this was a special day for the Elves of Imladris, and she had put on her most splendid robes, washed her face and brushed her hair. A mild breeze blew, birds were singing, and if it had been any more beautiful a day, Glorfindel would have grown suspicious.
But as things were, he sat in the bath, scrubbing his skin, washing his hair and singing a merry tune. What a wonderful day! Within a few hours, he would finally be bonded to Erestor, his dark jewel, and then he would have the legal right to cut the ears off anybody who dared to lay a hand on his advisor. Life was beautiful, indeed!
Corresponding with the traditions, Erestor had spent the last night in another wing of the Last Homely House, and Glorfindel had no idea what his robes would look like. But as far as Fin was concerned, Erestor could wear a sack and would still be the most beautiful Elf on Arda.
The warrior hummed and whistled, then he got out of the water, rubbed his skin dry and began to comb his hair. There was still plenty of time to get ready, as the ceremony would not take place before late afternoon, but he had risen early so he would not be in a hurry; as somebody who was notorious for being late even for his own death, he decided that this of all days would be a nice occasion to make a new start. This aside, Erestor would never forgive him for being late for his own wedding.
When he was satisfied with his hair, he put on the robes he had ordered from the seamstress for this special day. Knowing of Erestor's terror that he might appear wearing a red tunic, yellow coat and green breeches for his wedding, he had decided to humour his mate, so his robes were of a dark green, velvet and silk, embroidered with tiny pearls which shone in the morning sun. He completed his special outfit with a pair of dark green suede boots, and when he looked at himself in the mirror, he whistled appreciatively.
"Glorfindel of Gondolin, you are one attractive Elf," he said, and blew his mirror image a kiss.
"And you are a big, silly Elf, too!" a merry voice grumbled behind his back, and Fin turned around in alarm, only to see Gandalf's smiling face.
"Gandalf! It is so good to see you!" he cried out, and flung himself into the arms of the old wizard, who stumbled under this assault. He patted the warrior's back lovingly, then took a step back and looked at him.
"Indeed - you are a welcome sight for my old, sore eyes," he said, and winked at Fin. "I hope Erestor will appreciate you as you deserve!"
Glorfindel grinned.
"Ai, Gandalf - it is I who should be grateful, for I certainly do not deserve him! It is so good to see you again, old friend - without you, this day could not have been perfect!"
Gandalf smiled, and decided not to mention the unpleasant matter which had led him to Rivendell - this would have to wait till tomorrow, for nothing in the world could be important enough to ruin his old friend's wedding day.
"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, and put his pipe aside. He began to search through the large bag he had brought along, and finally, he found what he had been looking for, fishing out an object, wrapped in blue velvet.
"Ah, here it is! I feared I might have left it at home - you know, with every millennia, my memory gets worse."
"I am not a Rohirrim, Gandalf," Glorfindel quipped, "the 'poor, tired old man' act is not working with me."
"Darn - and I had so hoped I could deceive you! Ah well - look, this is my wedding present for you, I thought you might want to give it to Erestor on this special day."
He handed the small bundle over to Glorfindel, who carefully unwrapped it. When he saw what it contained, he held his breath.
"Gandalf! By the Valar! How.... where did you find this?"
The wizard smiled, and shrugged it.
"It does not matter. But I thought it would be the perfect gift for Erestor, do you not agree?"
"Yes - oh yes! Thank you so much, you sweet and gentle soul - oh, I cannot wait to give this to Erestor!"
Glorfindel was dancing around the room, and Gandalf, who had seen the warrior suffer through his darkest hours, did not begrudge him his happiness at all - if anybody deserved to be happy, then it was Glorfindel.
* * *
There were two Elves in Rivendell who were not happy. One of them was even decidedly unhappy, and that was Celeborn. He had been a hunter for way too long to not see immediately that Rúmil was out for prey. That the prey in question was his wife was unpleasant enough - but the hunter being his own son - THAT was a bitter fruit to swallow for the Lord of Lothlórien. For such is the nature of males - they may not want something which they previously held dear anymore, but cannot live with the thought that maybe somebody else would want it.
His encounter with Galadriel had been brief and friendly; he had been surprised how calm he had been, and how little it had meant to him. Oh, he still loved her - you do not spend millennia with each other without love, and thousands of thin threads connecting two lives could be just as strong a tie as a thick rope, but he had felt instinctively, just as she had, that they had to rebuild their friendship, not their marriage, for this had gone for good.
So he was following his wife and his son, hoping not to be detected, and he wondered if she knew that Rúmil was his son. If she did, she hadn't told the young one, for Rúmil showed no difference in his behaviour, there was no sign of any rivalry. He had even thanked him for saving his brother, and expressed his loyalty and admiration.
'Lovely,' Celeborn said to himself while he took a stroll towards the Bruinen, 'he admires me and beds my wife. The true fruit of my loins.'
When he reached the bank of the Bruinen, he saw Gil-galad, who stared into the black waters and obviously thought about something unpleasant. While Gil-galad certainly was not high on his list of Elves to spend time with, he was still better company than a nervous Glorfindel, a grumpy Elrond or the Lothlórien love birds.
"Mae govannen, Ereinion," he said, "are you not preparing for the big ceremony?"
Gil-galad turned around, and gave Celeborn a dark look.
"No. I will not attend." he said, then he returned his attention to the river.
"You will not? But why - Elrond will certainly be disappointed?" Celeborn asked in surprise, though the prospect of not having to witness Gil-galad's archaic mating rites through supper held some attraction for him.
"I do not think so. You can return to the Last Homely House and stake your claim, Celeborn - you are a noble lord, while I am nothing but a peasant, disturbing the peace of this house and making its lord look like a fool in front of his court and family."
"Bitter words, Ereinion - and they sound like a quote", Celeborn replied, and Gil-galad laughed, alas without humour.
"Oh indeed - Elrond and I had a most pleasant conversation last night. Who would have thought that my sweet, lovely Herald would grow into such a Balrog!"
Celeborn had to laugh, which earned him an angry glare from Gil-galad, who sat down into the grass.
"Please forgive me my merriment, Ereinion - but Elrond's tempers are well-known - they are like a straw fire, hot and over very quickly. If you argued last night, he will have forgotten about it by this morning, so do not take it to heart."
"But he is right, Celeborn. I - do not belong here."
Against his will, Celeborn felt pity. He sat down beside Gil-galad, careful not to stain his robes in the grass.
"Let me speak openly, Gil-galad. You and I, we both want the same: Elrond. Let us leave the decision up to him - as things are, he might well chose somebody else, and we can cry into each other's jerkins over the loss."
Gil-galad looked at his companion, weighing his words and sincerity, then he nodded.
"Agreed, so let this be a fair battle then."
"So we have an agreement, fine. May the winner hold Elrond's heart dear. I only have one condition, Celeborn."
"And this would be?" the Lord of the Golden Wood asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"I shall not play cards for him with you!"
* * *
"If nice Master Erestor does not stop being nervous, Mauburz will have to slap him up head and dress him while unconscious!" Mistress Straggler barked, and Erestor immediately stopped fiddling around with the fastenings of his robe.
"What does it look like, Mauburz? Is this not... too daring a colour?"
The Uruk'hai rolled her eyes.
"Is not daring. Is blue. Normal colour. Looks good on you and on sky. Also nice colour when somebody hits your eye. Will not happen today if you are nice Elf and not make Mauburz nervous!"
Erestor looked at his reflection in the mirror. As Fin loved blue so much, he had gone for a robe of dark blue and slate, which was an adventurous change from his usual robes which were black, dark black, light black or black with black ornaments. He felt daring, frivolous even.
The robe was ornamented with white jewels all around the collar, and Mistress Mauburz had woven them in his hair, too. They looked like stars in the night sky in the black hair, and while all this was very regal and beautiful, Erestor did not quite feel like himself in this outfit.
"So, now you are finished, can come down to garden to meet nice Lord Glorfindel. Not be nervous, very simple. Just say 'yes' when somebody asks question."
Erestor would have laughed if he hadn't been so nervous. Now that the moment he had longed for all these years had come, he felt like a blushing Elf maiden, and really silly, too. The weirdest thoughts raced through his mind - what if Fin changed his mind at the very last moment? What if Estorel started to cry? What if... aiya, this was leading nowhere!
Erestor took a deep breath, then he followed Mauburz, and together the two left the Last Homely House through the back door and walked down the small path towards Elrond's gazebo where the Lord of Imladris was already waiting, dressed in his most formal robes.
This alone would have been enough to fill Erestor with awe, but the sight of Glorfindel in all his green glory was too much for the advisor, and he swayed. 'Great', he thought, 'fainting on my wedding day, just the thing I need - how nice.'
Glorfindel quickly stepped to his side and caught him, pulling him gently towards him.
"Is everything in order, beloved?" he asked, worried, and Erestor took a deep breath, then he nodded.
"Ai - it is just so - incredible. You look wonderful."
Erestor smiled at Glorfindel, a sweet, sweet smile, and the warrior melted into a puddle.
"No - you look wonderful. And I have something here which I would like to give you, as a special present on this memorable day."
He turned around, and Elrond, who was smiling with an almost fatherly pride at the two Elves, handed him something.
"I want you to wear this, beloved. It used to belong to my father, and the Valar know how Gandalf found it, for I thought it to be lost, like everything else of Gondolin."
Erestor stared down at the object in awe - it was a circlet, so thin and fine it looked almost like cobwebs. There was a golden flower on the front, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. When Glorfindel placed it carefully on his head, he almost started to cry.
Fin kissed him lovingly, and stroked his cheek.
"No tears today, my dark jewel. This is a day of laughter and joy, for it is the day you will make me the happiest Elf on Arda."
Erestor smiled back, and they would have gazed at each other for all eternity if Elrond hadn't cleared his throat.
"Are you ready?" he asked, and when Erestor and Glorfindel, after exchanging one last look, nodded, he began to walk down to the summer garden, where all guests and the family had already gathered, waiting for the to-be-weds to arrive.
It was a joyful thing - there was music playing, Elves singing, some of the Galadhrim sat in the trees and rained down rose petals on the couple, but nothing was even remotely as lovely as Erestor's happy face, his smile and his bright eyes, Glorfindel thought.
Finally, they arrived at the place where the bonding ceremony should take place, and Elrond halted. He turned around, facing the two, and held up his hand - immediately, laughter, song, music and talk stopped, and a sacred silence fell.
Glorfindel stared at Elrond, he saw his lips move, but he did not hear the words - somehow he almost expected a troop of Orcs to turn up at the very last second to ruin this day, or a Balrog to land on the wedding cake, for certainly it could not be true - Erestor really wanted him?
He only came to his senses when he realized that Erestor was facing him, saying his vows.
"I bond with you - my dearest friend,
Soul mate, companion, confidant
A promise of love
An oath I swear,
A bond neither life nor death can sever."
Glorfindel swallowed hard, and for a short moment he feared he would faint, but then straightened up, looked at Erestor and said his own vows:
"I laugh with you
I cry with you
Shall always love
And honour you
Both freed and bound by our love,
As witnessed by the stars above."
Elrond clapped his hands, once, sharply, and everybody broke out in cheers while Fin took Erestor in his arms and kissed him.
When he finally freed his new husband, Orophin stepped forward, carrying Estorel who sported a most splendid robe of blue velvet and who, amazingly enough, had managed to stay clean. Orophin stepped in front of Elrond, kneeling down and holding the Elfling, who giggled happily.
"Glorfindel of Gondolin - now that you are bonded, it is time to give this child his name. What shall his given father's name be?"
Fin took one step forward, and rested one hand on his son.
"He shall be called Estorel my lord."
"So Estorel it shall be. Erestor - what shall his given mother's name be?"
Now Erestor stepped forward, resting his hand over Fin's.
"He shall be called Luinil, my lord."
Glorfindel turned his head abruptly, staring at his husband, thinking he might have misheard. But Erestor only smiled at him warmly, and if they hadn't been right in the middle of Estorel's name-giving ceremony, he would have kissed him.
"So Luinil it shall be. Guardian - give me the Elfling."
Erestor and Glorfindel took one step back, and Orophin got up, holding Estorel out to Elrond. The Lord of Imladris took Estorel in his arms and rocked the little Elf gently.
"You are Erestor Luinil, son of Glorfindel of the Golden Flower and Erestor of the Circling Raven.
Your life shall be happy
Your friendships be true
Your words shall be honest
Your heart remain pure."
He then handed Estorel, who had giggled and cooed all through the ceremony, back to Orophin; a symbolic gesture to release the Elfling into the hands of his guardian, and Orophin kissed the child, while Elrond clapped his hands again.
Again, everybody cheered and clapped, and Glorfindel took Erestor's hand, squeezing it.
"Thank you," he simply said, and Erestor squeezed his hand in return.
He took Estorel from Orophin's arms, and left the place with Glorfindel to join the guests. Orophin made to follow them, but the Lord of Imladris held him back, and raised his voice, addressing all present.
"Friends and family - I have a surprise for you. Not only can we celebrate the bonding between Lord Glorfindel and Master Erestor today, but also the union between my eldest son and heir, Elladan, and Orophin of Lothlórien. Now, if you, dear son and thorn in my side, would have the courtesy to step forward, we could do this properly and as it is customary among our kin."
Elladan stumbled forward, and found himself side by side with an equally shocked Orophin.
"Do you think you can stand through the ceremony, or shall I get you some chairs?" Elrond asked, not moving a muscle in his face.
"Ada," Elladan began, "how... we did not... I am sorry..."
"Son - if a father does not notice when his child has finally found happiness in his life, he would be a bad father, indeed. Just because you two are blind, it does not mean everybody else is, too. You are bonded already, so all I can do now is give you both my blessing, and express my honest wish that you will live a long and happy life together, and may you be as happy as I was with your mother. And now stop staring at me, Orophin, and kiss your husband already."
For a moment there was complete silence – even the birds did not dare to sing anymore, then somebody started to applaud, another one followed, and within seconds, Orophin and Elladan were surrounded by laughing Elves who hugged and kissed them, and the sun quickly hid behind a cloud, for the light in Orophin's eyes was brighter than any she could ever have produced.
* * *
"It is not fair," Elwin grumbled, and kicked a small stone down the dark corridor.
"Hear this? They are having a splendid time up there, drinking, singing, dancing, and what do we get? An evening sitting in a cave!"
"Oh, quit complaining already," Meldan replied, and stretched his lean body.
"Somebody has to guard this thingy here, and it is our turn. Look at the bright side of it – we will not suffer from a hangover tomorrow."
Elwin rolled his eyes, and looked with disgust at the stone container they had to guard. He had no idea what it contained, it had been brought from Lothlórien with great secrecy, and nobody but Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel, Master Erestor and Lord Celeborn were allowed to come near it, so he thought it must be something of great value and power. In a way it was an honour to be trusted with guarding this item – but still, it would have been nice to be out in the fresh air, celebrating, instead of sitting here in a dungeon.
Meldan heard something, and snapped to attention.
"Who is there?" he called, "Nobody is allowed down here!"
Both he and Elwin grabbed for their swords, which they quickly put back in their scabbards when they saw that it was neither Orc nor Uruk'hai but the lovely Lady Firinwë, carrying a wicker basket.
"My lady, I am afraid that you are not allowed to be here. My apologies, but this is an order from Lord Elrond."
She laughed, and gave the guard her sweetest smile, and he could feel his ears going all red.
"Oh, but I come from Lord Elrond, dear friend – he felt it was not fair that you two have to sit here in the dark when all of Rivendell is indulging in merriment, so he sends you these two bottles of Miruvor as a present."
"Really? Now that is very generous of Lord Elrond!" Meldan declared, and Elwin nodded enthusiastically.
"Is it not? Such a fine, gentle Lord – and here, this he sends as well."
Firinwë set down the basket and produced two glasses, one grilled chicken and some sweetcorn and fruits, as well as plates and everything else needed for a comfortable lunch.
"Here – I hope you will enjoy it. You are serving your Lord well, and it is nothing but right to reward you for you work," she laughed.
"And now you must excuse me – Lord Glorfindel still owes me a dance!"
With that, she waved the two guards good bye, and danced through the corridor, disappearing in the dark.
"She is beautiful," Elwin sighed.
"Yes, but I do not like her," Meldan said, frowning.
"But the Miruvor I like very much! Come – hold the glasses while I open the bottle!"
* * *
Haldir was drunk – very drunk. When he began to sing rather bawdy tavern songs and insisted on juggling with Elrond's best crystal glasses, Rúmil and Orophin decided that it was high time to take their brother home.
When they reached the cave where Haldir lived with Rabbit and Bramble, the youngest of the brothers had another attack of giggling, and nothing they said would stop him. Rabbit, who had been resting on the bed, curled around the sleeping Bramble like a wolf around his cub, got up and came to their help, picking his completely wrecked husband up and carrying him to his bed.
"Thank you for bringing him home. I hope nobody took offence at my absence – I do not like gatherings of many." Rabbit said, and put Haldir down on the bedcover.
Orophin shook his head.
"We understand, Rabbit. When I wake up with a sore head tomorrow, I will probably envy you, and…"
He broke off, and went over to a chest. There was a framed drawing hanging on the wall above, and Orophin stared at it.
"Anything wrong, Orophin?" Rúmil asked, and stepped closer.
"This picture," Orophin gasped, and stared at Rúmil, "who…"
Rúmil gently patted his arm.
"You have been away for a long time, brother. We – have found out about Haldir's family. I know how proud you are of our kin, but Haldir – Haldir is not fully Elven, Orophin. He is a Peredhil, like Lord Elrond. This is his mother, as far as we know."
Orophin continued to stare at the picture, and Rúmil, misinterpreting his behaviour, tugged on his sleeve.
"Orophin – I know that this must be a great shock to you, but he is still our brother, and does it really matter who his parents were?"
He looked at his oldest brother, who continued to stare and now reached out, touching the picture with his finger tips.
"This is Haldir's mother, Rúmil? Are you really sure?" he whispered, and Rúmil nodded.
"Yes – Lord Celeborn told us. His mother brought Haldir to him when he was just born, claiming she could not look after him."
The enormity of this revelation was too much for Orophin, and he dropped down on the bed beside Haldir.
"You do not look well, brother – shall I fetch you a glass of water?" Rúmil asked, worried, and Rabbit growled: "I do not care about his parents. He is my mate, and I shall never hold his ancestry against him."
He glared at Orophin disapprovingly, and the Galadhrim finally realized that his behaviour had been misinterpreted.
"Aiya – you have me all wrong. Haldir could be the offspring of a Cave Troll and I would still love him dearly. But you do not understand – I knew this woman!"
"What? You knew her?" Rúmil gasped, and both he and Rabbit stared down at him with eyes big as saucers.
"Yes. I knew her," Orophin softly replied, "her name was Lilly."
"Orophin!" Rúmil moaned, and shook his head, "how come you know Haldir's nana?"
Orophin closed his eyes for a moment.
"I love you."
"You shouldn't."
"I know. But I love you, anyway."
He looked at Rúmil, then at Rabbit, and finally he turned to Haldir, who had fallen asleep by now. He ran his hand over the silver blond hair, followed the line of the nose and the lips, and finally, his fingers rested on Haldir's throat, feeling the calm, steady pulse.
"I should know his mother, Rúmil."
He smiled up at the two confused Elves, and continued:
"I should – after all, I am his father!"
* * *
Erestor, a little tipsy and drunk, sneaked into the library, but to his horror, he realized he was not alone.
Of all the people to run into, it had to be Gil-galad. How utterly embarrassing.
Erestor's face was aflame when he found the Elven king reading in what looked like '1007 Lórien Love Positions', which just happened to be the book Erestor had come to fetch – he had planned a surprise for Fin.
Gil-galad looked up, and, mistaking Erestor's blush for disapproval of his presence, quickly snapped the book closed.
"I hope I have not offended you - I was looking for books on the history of Rivendell, to catch up with the last millennia, and I just happened to find this - section."
Erestor chose not to comment on the obvious fact that Gil-galad must have ignored at least four signs clearly saying NO ENTRANCE in both Sindarin and Quenya to "happen to find" this section. Instead, he politely bowed his head.
"I am not offended at all, my lord, and I am sure Lord Elrond would not mind seeing you here, either, after all, these are your books."
There was a certain impertinent undertone in the last words, and Gil-galad, never one to shy back from a challenge, stepped beside Erestor, opened the book and flicked through the pages.
"Ah, I see you have read them, Master Erestor. It is good to see an advisor who takes his duties so serious. But I must say that I am most grateful for your presence, for I need the advice of an expert, and you seem to be just the Elf for this. Now look at this," he said, and showed Erestor a picture of truly spectacular content, "do you think this is possible, or has the artist taken some liberties with the illustration?"
Erestor, who had heard the same question last night from Glorfindel ("Come to your senses, Erestor - this is NOT possible! The artist must have gotten something wrong! Erestor! Put that thing away!"), blushed again, and Gil-galad, mentally rubbing his hands over embarrassing the stoic advisor, pushed the boat a little further out. He turned a couple of pages, and then pointed at another picture.
"Or this here - I am not sure if this is a leg, an arm or... Master Erestor? Is everything alright with you? You look a little... flushed?"
But there came no answer. Instead, Erestor licked his lips nervously and moved closer to Gil-galad, who noted with confusion that the advisor was growling.
"Eh ... Erestor? Do you not feel well? Shall I call somebody?" the dark-haired Elf asked, beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.
Erestor glared at him, a predatory grin on his lips. Then he sniffed.
"I like your scent", he said.
'By all Valar but Mandos, what is wrong with this Elf?' Gil-galad thought, and tried to move away from Erestor, but the advisor, who did not look stoic at all anymore, would not have it, and followed him.
He hardly had the time to notice the feline movement of Erestor, then Gil-galad found himself grabbed with a force never expected from an Elf as willowy looking as Erestor and shoved against the shelves with such a might that some of the tomes fell out and landed with a loud 'thud' on the floor.
"Erestor! What are you doing!" he gasped, but further protests were not possible, for now Elrond's advisor was kissing him hard, and he threw the larger Elf rather unceremoniously on the floor. Gil-galad quickly moved to lie on top of the other Elf, who had obviously gone mad, and he already feared he would have to knock him out when Erestor stopped, staring at Gil-galad in horror.
"What – I am so sorry, what have I done?" he gasped, and tried to wriggle out from under the taller Elf above him.
"Well, if I am not completely wrong, you initiated some strange Noldorian mating ritual", Gil-galad grinned, not really willing to let Erestor go. "And, if I may add, you were quite successful".
Erestor tried to move away, and shook his head, glaring at Gil.
"I love Glorfindel. I would never… with anybody else…please let me get up."
Gil-galad sighed, secretly regretting this lost opportunity, but when he tried to get up to let Erestor go, The Hand of Doom grabbed his neck, dragged him off the advisor and out of the small room.
"What the..." he began, then he found himself face to face with an angry Balrog slayer. A very angry Balrog slayer. And if Gil-galad had learned one thing in the Halls of Waiting then it was not to cross Glorfindel of Gondolin's path when he was in a bad mood, and this was the mood out of Mordor.
"What do you think you are doing here!" Glorfindel barked, shaking the larger Elf by the neck like a cat her young one.
"Fin! Fin - please!" came Erestor's shaken voice from behind, but Glorfindel didn't react, he grabbed Gil-galad by the front of his tunic again, and shook him, hard.
The other Elf was simply not one to tolerate such rude treatment, especially as he felt he was attacked unjustly, and he punched Glorfindel in the side. The blond winced and let go for a second, only to attack again. Within seconds, the two Elven lords were fighting on the floor of the library, fists were flying while insults unheard of in the Last Homely House rang through the air, and Erestor, who had finally come to his senses again, tried in vain to separate the two.
Gil-galad landed a hit on Fin's chin, and the Balrog-slayer stumbled, smashed into Elrond's desk and threw it over in the process, landing hard among scrolls, books and notes, and Gil-galad was above him immediately, fist raised to land another blow, when he felt somebody holding his arm and dragging him away.
"What in the name of Elbereth is going on here!" Elrond boomed while he kept the struggling king in an iron grip, and Erestor hastened to Glorfindel's side. He was still lying on the floor, his head spinning and his right eye already starting to turn black.
Gil-galad didn't look much better, though - his nose was bleeding and he had a split lip.
"It is entirely my fault..." Erestor sobbed, stroking Fin's hair, "I - I really do not know what came over me, I suddenly felt I had to... and then..." He buried his face in his hands, and Fin, who slowly started to understand what was going on here, banged his own head several times on the hard stone floor, which gained him an additional splitting headache.
Gil-galad wanted to say something, but Elrond steered him towards the door.
"Please follow me, dear friend, so that I may care for your wounds. Then we can go watch the lupines grow in the garden."
Gil-galad thought that Elrond could put his lupines where the sun didn't shine, but as his nose was really hurting like Mordor, he decided to wring Glorfindel's neck another time, and followed Elrond out of the library.
Once the two had departed, Fin moved again. He sat up, raked his fingers through his hair and stared at Erestor.
"Erestor. Gift of the Valar. Dark flower of my life and delight of my nights. You know I love you. I really do. I would give my life for you, and you know it."
Erestor, still sobbing, nodded.
"But this can NOT go on, darling. I have never seen Rabbit behaving like this, and I can only assume that you suffer from other... symptoms than he does because you are not a full Plains Elf. I understand this. I really do. But I cannot bear this anymore. Enough is enough."
With that, he got up, and held out his hand to the devastated advisor who still sat among scrolls and books. Erestor took the offered hand, hesitatingly, and Fin dragged him to his feet.
"Will you leave me now?" Erestor whispered, knowing he would drop dead on the spot if Fin ever so much as hinted at the wish to be separated from him.
"No," Fin said, and threw the amazed advisor over his shoulder, carrying him through the library and out of the door, just like he had done on that fateful night at the beginning of their relationship, "I will not leave you. We will now go up to our chamber, lock the door and get involved in the production of another Elfling. Elbereth be my witness, I would rather have 20 of the little rascals running around my study and trashing my furniture than ever have to see you kissing Gil-galad again - this will give me nightmares for at least a century, if not more!"
With that, he hastened up the stairs, taking two steps in one, and Erestor, who was hanging over his shoulder like a sack of flour, did the only thing a self-respecting Elf could do under such conditions:
He purred.
* * *
(almost) THE END
* * *
EPILOGUE AND PREVIEW ON "FINDING NÁMO"
~ ~~ Meanwhile, back in Tíngel Forest, where the day is as dark as the night… ~ ~ ~
Any other but Firinwë would have been scared standing in front of the Great Lord of Tíngel Forest – but as she was somebody who considered nobody of any importance but her own illustrious self, outer appearances did not impress her, and while she certainly would have preferred the company of some nice looking Elf to hundreds of Orcs, she was not afraid.
The Great Lord looked at her, an amused smile on his lips.
"Are you tired of your life, She-Elf, that you came here?"
She didn't see him speak, she heard him more in her mind than she heard his words with her ears, but this also failed to impress her.
"No, Great Lord. I have come to offer you something that you have been craving for ages."
"I do not crave anything - but I hope your tale is amusing, She-Elf, for I am bored. See this candle? It is almost burnt down. I will give you as long as it burns if I fail to be interested, which is very likely, your life shall extinguish like its flame."
He pointed to a small stump of wax with a weakly flickering flame.
She shrugged.
"One would think that somebody in your position could afford candles of better quality, but very well. I offer you Middle-Earth, Great Lord."
He laughed, shaking his head, and his long, black hair cascaded over his back, rippling like a piece of finest silk. 'Nice,' Firinwë thought, 'I wonder if it feels as lovely as it looks?' But now was not the moment for such musings.
He still laughed.
"Middle-Earth? Why should I want Middle-Earth? I have spent ages here already, banned from my throne. If there is one thing I do not wish then it is to rule a realm of Halflings, Elves, Dwarves and Mortals!"
"We all have to start somewhere, Great Lord. This is only the beginning – with my help, you will not only rule over all of Arda, but over Valinor and the Valar themselves!"
An angry flash emerged from the black eyes.
"She-Elf! What madness drives you? I shall have you torn apart by my dogs this very moment!"
"Now this would be a very unwise thing to do, Great Lord. Because without me, you will never reach your target – and I have the only thing that can help you to regain the throne: I have The Ring of Mandos."
The Great Lord spun around, taking one step forward.
"You have The Ring? How did it come to be in your possession?"
She shrugged.
"All it took was two silly Elves and a bottle of wine. So - I have The Ring, and I am willing to give you what you want. Of course, there are some things I want, too…"
Firinwë broke off, looking at the Great Lord, whose fair face had taken on a furtive expression, and there was a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.
"You want something? Pray tell, She-Elf, why should I give you anything? I could just tear you apart and take the ring, if I had my mind set on it. Do not mistake me for my brother, who is as weak as a toothless dog – I do not ask for things, I take them."
"I have never met your brother, so I cannot judge this, but you need my help – The Ring does not obey you, only a She-Elf can use it. You cannot fight the Valar with force, you need a cunning plan, and that is exactly what I can provide along with the ring."
He considered her words for a moment. Not only was she right – this also promised to be a great adventure; finally a distraction from the same daily routine that had pained him for so many ages. He was bored out of his skull, and now these damnable Elves had even ruined his occasional pleasure of hunting Galadhrim. In other words: he had nothing to lose, if all should go wrong, he would simply snap her neck or throw her to the Wargs - his position couldn't get any worse than it already was, anyway.
"So we agree on this then, She-Elf. Now tell me – what is it you want?"
Firinwë smiled. This was going even better than she had hoped!
"Ai, Great Lord, I do not ask for much. I want Lothlórien to rule, Lord Celeborn as my personal slave, Galadriel and that annoying Elrond banned to – well, some ugly place, I leave it up to you – and Erestor, that miserable son of a Cave Troll, shall spend the rest of his life in your mines."
The Great Lord had sat down gracefully again in his seat, head propped on his hand.
"Is this all you want, She-Elf? Would you not like to have a pretty pony, too?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
She considered this for a moment.
"A pony? Yes, why not – ponies are nice. So, yes, I would like to have a pony, too. But for starters," and now a really evil smile was on her lips, "for starters I want Glorfindel of Gondolin, as my personal possession and for me to play with."
The Great Lord wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Glorfindel? That battered old war horse? Pray tell – what do you want with this feeble excuse for an Elf?"
She smiled smugly.
"Oh, I am sure one can relight his fire – it just requires an expert. Now, Great Lord – what do you say? Do we have an agreement?"
He looked at her, and for the fraction of a moment Firinwë wondered if she had perhaps just made a terrible mistake, but this feeling lasted too briefly for her to consciously register it.
"We do have an agreement, She-Elf. Follow my guards, they will show you to your quarters."
Six of the ugliest Orcs Firinwë had ever seen stepped forward. Compared with these creatures, Mauburz the Straggler almost looked like an Elf. 'Nothing hot water and perfumed bathing oil could not improve,' she said to herself, 'things are going to change dramatically around here.'
Before she left the Great Hall with her escort, she stopped and turned around.
"And what about Glorfindel?"
The Great Lord waved her off, stifling a yawn.
"Stop your jabbering already, She-Elf, he will be brought to you in a short time."
"Unharmed?"
"Unharmed," he assured her, and watched her departure.
"Unharmed, my dear," he said to himself, and grinned.
"Well – mostly."
* * *
"Hey!" the audience says, "and what is with Mandos? And the ring? Firinwë? What happened to Amaris in Mirkwood? And Gil-galad? You can't just leave us hanging there, you evil Elfwriter!"
Ah – you will learn all in time – in the upcoming sequel
"Finding Námo"
But for now, my dear friends, this is
THE END
* * *
Author's notes:
Congratulations – you have made it! And I have made it, too! Miruvor for everybody!
See, told you there would be a happy ending. I even managed some Rúmil/Galadriel romance (I feel like Barbara Cartland).
"Of all the birds" was written, like the by now notorious "Three Ravens", by Thomas Ravenscroft (who must have been the residential composer in Lothlórien!), and if you want to know what it sounds like: "OF ALL THE BIRDS.
Thanks to everybody who joined me on this journey – it has been fun to write this story, and I hope you had some fun reading it, too.
Erestor